Untouchable
by Iryl
Summary: Ami Mizuno and Zoicite James are childhood friends, but Zoicite isn't content with just friendship. (Alternate reality.) Unfinished for now.
1. Youth

AN: I hope I did justice to the natural stupidity of men, the cuteness of babies, and Ami's general self. (What? Men _are_ clueless when it comes to women. I don't have an older brother for nothing.) 

Part One: Youth 

She was walking down the almost empty school hallway, peering at the rotting ceiling tiles, deep in thought. The dark blue pleated skirt swirled lightly around long, slender legs, and she clutched both her books and school bag in front of her.   
    He was standing behind his locker door, watching her. She was such a pretty little thing. About a head smaller than himself, with short, dark hair curling about an infinitely sweet and thoughtful face.   
    She paused near him and smiled, a sweet, shining ray pouring from her entire being. He felt his own smile warming, blooming under the brilliancy of hers.   
    "Zoicite," she greeted warmly. "Are you ready?"   
    "Yeah," he replied, shutting his locker and picking up his bag. They walked out to the parking lot together, Zoicite admiring how the sunlight brought out cerulean highlights in her hair. He opened the car door for her and went around to get in the driver's side.   
    "So how's your dad been doing?" he asked when they were stopped at a red light. The already quiet atmosphere in the car suddenly became somber.   
    "He's doing well enough for now. Mom's usually over at the hospital talking with him and he's awake a lot more lately. That doesn't mean anything though." Her brow furrowed, clear blue eyes clouding over, and she looked out the window as they started moving again.   
    After only minutes, they arrived in front of a big, stately house with a huge manicured lawn, three sprawling floors, and two polished oak doors with diamond-panes in the front. Zoicite pressed the button clipped to his visor, the crystal face of his watch gleaming in the sunlight, and pulled into the garage. Ami, watching him the while, appreciated the simple beauty of his glimmering green eyes thoughtfully flickering from garage-door-opener to the widening dark cavern of his garage. She appreciated the way his slim wrist turned when he took one hand off the wheel to brush a stray lock of hair out of his eyes, and the slender, supple length of his fingers.   
    But that didn't mean anything. She knew, as he grabbed both their bags, never allowing her to carry her own once they were out of public, winked at her, and led her into the great sprawling white house, that they were friends – good friends – best friends – and always would be. She was content with that. Just having his support as a friend was better than the frightening emotional turmoil something more serious would bring.   
    Ami wasn't sure if she would be able to handle anything serious. The thought of romance in general already scared her witless.   
    "Hey honey!" a woman's voice floated from the kitchen on the scent of chicken being fried. Zoicite swerved to head toward the smell, kissing his mom on the cheek in greeting and peering in the pan of crackling raw chicken breasts covered in flour – just like his mother. Mrs. James was dusted with a fine white powder, but still smiling cheerily. Her smile widened as she caught sight of Ami. "Ami, dear! How was school?"   
    "Fine, thank you," she smiled back, fondly.   
    "Would you like to stay for dinner?" She poked the chicken suggestively with a two-pronged utensil.   
    "I wouldn't want to impose," Ami hesitated.   
    "Oh, pish posh!" the woman waved her "poker" utensil dangerously, Zoicite ducking back to avoid it's sharp prongs, and stabbed at the chicken again, "You've been imposing on us since you were six. I figure since we signed you on our insurance as a third child, you can eat a little of our food."   
    Ami blinked, not sure whether to take her seriously or not.   
    Mrs. James smiled meekly. "Yeah, okay, no more bad jokes. Really, though, do you want to eat with us? I assume your mother will be out late again tonight." Here Mrs. James' eyes lost a bit of warmth and she pressed her lips lightly together. She had never approved of Ami's mother because she worked so much, leaving Ami alone all the time. Mrs. James herself had married a rich lawyer and had the time to spend as a housewife and mother – a role Ami greatly admired, since she was usually the one to wash her and her mother's clothes, clean house, and fix meals.   
    "Yeah," Ami said softly. "She's spending the night at the hospital with dad again. He's doing better and she doesn't want him to wake up alone."   
    Mrs. James smiled in sympathy, though it was only for Ami. "I understand. Now, why don't you two go do your homework – I think Zoicite's gonna faint if he has to hold those bags any longer." She gestured dryly to her son, who was grimacing and bent low with the weight of holding their school things.   
    _They'll make a nice couple one day,_ Mrs. James thought as they left the kitchen together.   
    "I'll take my bag if you want me to," Ami offered as they hurried up the stairs, but Zoicite shook his head stubbornly. "Idiot," she muttered fondly as he insisted on opening the door for her too. He was always extra gallant at home, and Ami didn't really know why. He had always been that way, ever since they were kids. Maybe it was because his mother would kill him if he did something rude under her roof, but somehow Ami didn't think that was it.   
    "Hey, dorkwad!" a strawberry-blonde head poked in the door just as Zoicite was tossing the bags onto his bed. He turned around and glared at his big sister. "I lost my pen, lemme borrow one." She was thin and feminine with long pink nails, dark blue eyes, and short-cropped red-blonde hair.   
    "Fine," he muttered, rummaging on his cluttered desk, and tossed a BiC at her.   
    "Thanks," the girl called, catching it, sent Ami a smile, and left.   
    Zoicite shut the door after her. "Honestly, I think Gertrude's nicer to you than to me sometimes."   
    "Of course," Ami replied. "You're family. She can be rude to you and still know you have to love her. I'm just a guest." She smiled and he plopped down beside her, dragging his bag off the bed.   
    "You're family, Ami," he chuckled. "Believe me, you're family. You're just way nicer to her than I am." He dug out his Trigonometry book and settled it on his lap. They were in the same grade, even though she was a year his younger, because she had skipped kindergarten.   
    They worked on their Trigonometry homework together, then did the reading their language teacher had assigned. By the time Ami was finished, she was leaning against Zoicite's shoulder where he sat propped against the bed, pouring diligently over his literature book. As she set her book aside, she was suddenly jealous of his book, and wanted him to pay attention to her instead. She thought that kissing him would do it – she would turn over and press her lips against him, slowly, first on the cheek, then by the mouth, then on the lips. He would stare at her for a moment in shock, and then those green eyes would darken and he would start kissing her back, trailing his hands through her hair . . .   
    No. Her daydream was shattered, because she never lied to herself. He wouldn't do that, he would be shocked, then dismayed, uncomfortable, and she would be completely mortified. She sighed. It had been such a nice, vivid daydream.   
    The sigh caught Zoicite's attention. It was wistful and resigned, and a little bit sad. He shut his book and put an arm around sweet little Ami, smiling down at her mild surprise. "You're dad'll be okay. Don't worry about it too much." His eyes lit with an idea. "I know what will make you feel better!" He pushed her up. "How about a swim before dinner?"   
    "I didn't bring my swimsuit," she frowned.   
    "We'll borrow one of Gertty's." He pulled her along down the hallway and knocked rapidly on a door. After a moment, a disgruntled looking college student opened it, tossing short strawberry-blonde hair out of her eyes. "I wanna swim and Ami doesn't have a suit," he said, pushing the slender girl in his sister's room before anyone could object. "Lend 'er one."   
    Gertrude stared at the door where her brother had been with eyebrows hitched in annoyance. "Fine," she snorted after him, shutting the door a little too firmly. Turning to Ami, she rolled her eyes, showing that she wasn't angry with her, and dug through the bottom drawer of her dresser. When she found her small hill of swimsuits in the back of it, she got a decidedly evil idea and pulled out a black two-piece. "All my others are in the wash," she lied apologetically, and sent Ami toward her bathroom with it.   
    A short while later, Ami was staring at the mirror in horror. She had _never_ worn such a small bathing suit in her _life_! It was a black bikini and covered all the right spots, but only just. When she turned around, she tried to sooth her burning cheeks by theorizing that at least it wasn't a thong. Screwing up her courage, and deciding to ask Gertrude if she had a t-shirt Ami could wear, Ami picked up her clothes and stepped out.   
    Gertrude decided that the look on her brother's face when Ami came out of the bathroom was worth all of the younger girl's embarrassment. He stared, back straightening reflexively, and flushed, eyes roving against his will over Ami's sweet, slender body. Her cheeks were bright red as she closed the door behind her and looked to Gertrude, not daring to look at Zoicite.   
    "Do you have a shirt I could wear over this?" she asked in a small voice.   
    "Yeah," Gertrude replied easily, her damage done. She pulled an old, oversized white t-shirt from her bottom drawer and tossed it to the grateful girl, who slipped it on immediately.   
    They went down to the pool in Zoicite's back yard. Ami liked his pool because there was a high fence all around the yard, so the neighbors couldn't peek in.   
    She shucked off the shirt and slipped into the cool water, smiling as she sunk to her chin and kicked a little to keep afloat. Zoicite, however, leapt in right in front of her, splashing her and making her sputter. With a strong kick off the side of the pool, she was underwater and nabbing his feet, dragging him down before striking out for the surface again.   
    Zoicite bobbed up next to her moments after she broke surface, and smiled, holding a slim pink, weighted plastic item that had been sitting on the bottom of the pool. Ami's eyes lit in knowledge of the game and she reached for it, only to have him evade her hand.   
    Darn his longer arms!   
    Her eyes narrowed into dark blue slits and she dove, grabbing his feet again and pulling him under, then darting back up to snatch the stick out of his hand. He was ready for her, though, and wrapped one arm around her waist as she struggled, pulling the item from her grasp before swimming away, with Ami flying after, the water pounding in her ears.   
    She reached the pool steps and followed him out, glaring gamely as she cornered him at the fence. Casting a wild look about, Zoicite grabbed the latch to the gate beside him and darted through, making Ami clench her fists in frustration before following him. The grass was soft beneath her bare feet, Zoicite was holding the pink stick behind him, and though she realized they were out front of his house, she didn't remember the bikini she had on. Until, of course . . .   
    "Hel_lo_, Mizuno," a familiar voice drawled and Ami whirled around, staring at the small group of boys in Zoicite's neighbor's yard. The boy who lived there, Billy Rosglas, had spoken, and Ami flushed, suddenly feeling much worse than naked. It was one thing to wear such a swimsuit in front of Zoicite, her old, dear friend who wouldn't tease her or think anything of it. It was quite another to wear it in front of the boy who had picked on her since the year she transferred to sixth grade in Juuban District.   
    The other boys with Rosglas didn't try to hide that their gazes settled in very inappropriate places.   
    Ami was so flushed, she felt she was going to be sick right there in the grass.   
    Until a strong, slim, tanned body moved in front of her, blocking her from sight. She had never been more glad that Zoicite was somewhat taller than her, and had never felt such fierce appreciation for the rude suggestion he made the boys.   
    Rosglas stepped forward angrily. "You wanna fight, Zoicite?"   
    "No," Zoicite replied curtly. "Because I don't think it's proper to fight in front of a lady. Perhaps another time."   
    Rosglas smirked. "That's just fine, but where's the lady? I just see some guys and a scrawny slut." He leaned forward on the last word, savoring it's crudity, and so was smirking when Zoicite went white and hit him. It was a good, hard hit, too, – in the face – and Ami knew Rosglas would have a nice shiny black eye tomorrow.   
    Zoicite was glaring down the other boy when he felt Ami catch his arm, her small voice pleading. "I want to go in now, Zoicite." When he didn't seem to move, she added, "_Please_" and he turned around, taking her almost roughly by the shoulders, and pushed her willing form back through the gate, shutting it firmly behind himself and locking it.   
    Neither spoke until they were in his room again, dressed and vaguely damp, the scent of chlorine permeating their skin and clothes.   
    Ami knelt by her books and started putting them back in her bag. "I don't know why he has to bother me all the time," she murmured, half to herself.   
    "Don't you?" Zoicite replied, as if surprised. He had been brooding to himself the whole time, but now came out of it to give her an odd look.   
    Ami cocked an eyebrow and tossed her hair, obviously thinking him asinine. "Because he's a big bully and always will be."   
    Zoicite chuckled and shook his head, sliding to sit on the floor beside her. "No, dear little Ami." He dug in the outer pocket of her school bag and produced a small compact, wiping the makeup dust from the mirror and holding it up for her to look into. "He does it because you're beautiful. Because he has a cow of a girlfriend and teasing you makes him feel better about it."   
    She shook her head and opened her mouth to protest, but Zoicite shushed her, turning to look at her. "Ami, those guys reacted exactly like anyone would to seeing a beautiful girl like you in a swimsuit like that. It was only natural." He frowned, heat flooding him again in anger and jealousy. "Not that I approve of the way they showed it."   
    Ami was still shaking her head. "_You_ didn't react that way," she said pointedly.   
    Zoicite was silent for a moment, then took a deep, shaky breath. "Don't be too sure, Ami," he whispered, not looking at her. A blush had crept up his cheeks and he looked guilty.   
    She was a little stunned, but pushed the foreign idea away, shaking her head again with more certainty. "I don't believe it. I –"   
    "Ami, do me a favor," Zoicite interrupted in a muted voice. "Never wear that swimsuit again?"   
    She hadn't been planning on it anyway, but the fact that he wouldn't look at her stirred her curiosity. "Why?"   
    He paused, shaking a little, and then moved so that his lips were very close to her ear, still not looking at her, voice shaking as much as the rest of him. "It made me want to touch you," he said with too-careful pronunciation, and sat back again, watching the patch of floor between his feet with a somewhat fatalistic air. "Please don't wear that swimsuit again," he said, voice filled with some kind of soft pain.   
    "Okay," she whispered, ripping her eyes from him once she realized she was staring.   
    They sat like that, uncomfortably, until Gertrude banged on the door to say that dinner was ready. 

She was brilliant.   


    Zoicite stood beside Ami as she gave their case, her voice smooth and controlled, and covertly checked out the other team. It was another boy-girl pairing, from the elitist private school, Crystal Sword, and though they looked like a fairly nice couple, the look in their eyes was far from friendly. There was a cool deliberation and a soaring confidence there that sent a chill down his spine. The girl was pretty – blue-eyed with a long sweep of wheat-blonde hair, and a slender, athletic body. The boy was tall, with silvery-white hair, brisk blue eyes, and deeply tanned skin. Everything about him _screamed_ efficiency, from the way his shoes were shined to the way his hair dared not get mussed (perhaps for fear that he would glare at it).   
    Ami finished up and Zoicite glanced at her calm blue eyes, full of calculation as she measured the other team just like he had.   
    Yes, Ami was brilliant. They both were – but they still lost the debate.   
    They walked into the hallway together, dejected, and went to sit on a bench in an empty hallway. Most debates weren't finished yet so the halls were mostly empty anyway.   
    Ami sighed, elbows on her knees and chin cupped in her hands. She had such a forlorn look to her that Zoicite roused himself to cheering her. He rubbed his hand in circles on her back and smiled at her when she glanced up at him.   
    "It'll be okay."   
    She sighed and sat up, and he took his hand away. "I know. I just wish we had put up a little more of a fight. I think if we'd gotten out our –"   
    She stopped in shock because Zoicite had kissed her. "I don't care if we lost," he murmured. "I love you anyway."   
    Ami stared at him, startled, and he kissed her again, but she broke away quickly.   
    "What are you _doing_?" she exclaimed, standing up.   
    Zoicite looked uncertain. "I'm trying to tell you that I love you," he stammered, hurt by her reaction.   
    But Ami didn't have time to notice his hurt. Terror was pounding through her so hard she thought she would throw up, and she did the only thing she could think to – blinded by tears, like a startled doe, she fled.   
    Zoicite watched her go, wet heat pricking at his eyes. 

Minako was talking softly to Kunzite in the quiet hallway when she saw their recent opponent come hurrying past them, crying. Not big sobs or howls, just trails of tears on her cheeks and sniffles. After a brief shared look of concern with Kunzite, she followed the girl down the hall and into the restrooms.   


    "Hey, knock knock," Minako said as she entered the girls' bathroom. The sniffling suddenly stopped and she heard the sound of a stall door shutting and locking. "Miss Mizuno?" she asked, remembering the name from their debate. "Are you okay?" She pecked on the stall door and could hear a sniffle from inside. "Come out for me, please?" she asked.   
    After a moment, the door opened and a wet, unhappy Ami stepped out, blowing her nose on some tissue paper. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, but she was still very pretty, Minako thought.   
    "You know, you guys put up a really good fight in the debate. I don't think I've ever had that much fun." She smiled, trying to get something out of the pretty blue-haired girl.   
    "Thank you," Ami replied politely, mopping her nose again.   
    Minako was silent for a moment, her smile faltering. "This isn't about losing the debate, is it?"   
    Ami didn't look at her. After a long minute, she spoke softly. "You know the boy I was debating with? Zoicite?" Minako nodded. "We've been best friends since we were six, and then he just had to go and . . . and ruin it!" she sobbed, body wracked with emotion.   
    Minako hugged her, concerned. When Ami calmed down, she asked, "What did he do?"   
    "He . . . he kissed me. And he told me he loved me."   
    Minako blinked. "That's all?"   
    Ami stared at her in horror. "That's _all_? Isn't that enough? I don't think about him like that and . . . and he _knows_ that kind of thing terrifies me! I got asked out once and he laughed at me for breaking out in hives. Said I was allergic to love." She sniffed.   
    "Hives can be caused by stress," Minako said wisely, and Ami couldn't help herself – she giggled. Minako grinned at the sound. "Come on," she said. "We'll give you a ride home." 

Ami didn't talk to Zoicite anymore. She avoided him at school and started hanging out with the blonde girl, Minako, from Crystal Sword, a lot more. So she soon found herself drawn into Minako's small group of friends. There was Usagi, a charmingly sweet and accident-prone girl who liked naps and manga more than anything. Rei of the fiery temper worked at her grandfather's temple as a priestess, and Makoto was tough, and the best cook on the planet. Minako and Usagi were the only ones with steady boyfriends.   


    Ami was becoming quite content in her little circle. It made her feel wanted and loved, and she had fun helping the other girls with their homework.   
    But still . . . she missed something of Zoicite's laughter and charm.   
    "Why did he have to do that?" she whispered one night, after crying herself out. 

Zoicite found out about the death of Ami's dad of cancer secondhand and after the funeral was already over. It stung. To be without her, to know she was out there laughing without him, smiling at other people. To know she had gone to her father's funeral without him, crying without him there to hug her and tell her everything would be okay. That not only hurt his heart, but also his pride, and he couldn't help feeling a little resentment toward her through the pain.   


    Only days after he made that discovery, he went home, tired and still sore from the recent discovery, and was cornered by his mother and sister.   
    "What did you do to Ami?" his mother demanded, arms folded. She was a petite woman, but with a nasty backhand that kept her children from smarting off.   
    "Nothing," he muttered hollowly and moved to go upstairs, but his sister blocked the way. "Move, Gertty," he growled.   
    "No."   
    "What did you _do_, Zoicite?" his mother demanded. "What happened?"   
    "What makes you think anything happened?" he replied sullenly, not looking her in the eye.   
    "Because that girl has been coming over at least five times a week since she was six, and now I haven't seen her for a month. I want to know what happened."   
    Zoicite grit his teeth. He obviously wasn't getting upstairs until he said something. "I made her mad and she's not talking to me."   
    "Then apologize," his mother told him.   
    "It's not really something I can apologize for – look, can I go now?"   
    "No, not until you fix this. I want you to call her right now." She picked up the phone.   
    "I can't," he looked at the phone, not taking it.   
    "Yes, you can, and you will!" His mother was getting angry.   
    "No," Zoicite shook his head.   
    "Young man, you are going to take back whatever you said to her, right _now_."   
    He glared at his mother, gut twisting in the danger of the confrontation. "I can't take it back. It was the truth."   
    "I don't care," she said, glaring right back at him, her green eyes sparking. "Whatever it was isn't enough to ruin your friendship over. Now _do it_!" She shook the phone at him.   
    "NO!" Zoicite snatched the phone and threw it, hard, across the room.   
    His mother smacked him across the face. "Go pick it up," she grated, "and call Ami Mizuno. Tell her you were wrong and you're sorry. I don't care if it was the truth, Ami matters more than being right."   
    Zoicite's cheek stung, but he wouldn't back down. "No."   
    "You're so damn stubborn! Why can't you take whatever you said _back_?!"   
    "Because it's the _truth_! I _do_ love her!"   
    Silence. His mother stood there, stunned, something dawning on her face. Zoicite's eyes were filled with tears and he turned away, barreling past his sister and up the stairs to his room.   
    In the living room, two women shared a startled look. 

Ami looked at the papers she was filling out, slightly wistful. She and Zoicite had always planned on going to college together at Tokyo University, but Minako had talked her into a great medical college in England. Ami was going to be a pediatrician, and she wanted to be the best one ever.   


    She smiled a little, thinking about her future career instead of her old friend. 


	2. Reunion

Part Two: Reunion 

Dr. Ami Mizuno sighed fondly as she watched her mother bustle about the new clinic, straightening things and giving tips on how to handle unruly patients. Usagi Tsukino was straightening things behind the receptionist area – she would work for Ami in the clinic while waiting for Mamoru to get through his schooling. They were engaged, but he wanted to get his Masters degree before getting married. Ami had gotten her Masters early through a very tough couple years – it wasn't usually the recommended way, since many failed the course's strenuous demands, but Ami had conquered it. She was very proud of herself.   
    Ami bent down to pick up some of the toys that had been tossed negligently next to a pile of blocks. Some of them were her old toys, and she fingered the lace dress of a brown-haired doll fondly before setting it on the low red toy shelf by her old teddy-bear. She turned around and looked at the room. The walls had a fun, colorful animal print on them, the couches were red, yellow, and green, and the carpeting was blue so that it wouldn't leave a noticable stain if a child threw up on it. The front room was large enough that she had been able to fit a Play-Child slide on the other end of the room, with a see-saw (both of them bright, hard plastic) and have room to spare.   
    Ami's mother came over and kissed her on the cheek, tears in her eyes. "You're all set, dear."   
    Ami smiled. "Then let's open." 

It was a hectic Thursday, several weeks after the grand opening of Ami's clinic. Her mother often popped by to help out when she had time, and Ami wished she would skip that surgery today to help with the horde of toddlers and screaming babies. It was so packed because it was the last day she was giving free immunization shots for flu season and everyone seemed to have waited until the last minute. Usagi had helpfully started a game of "telephone" with some of the littler kids, which kept them quiet for awhile.   


    "There ya go," Ami murmured to the little boy, band-aiding his arm, and smiled. His lower lip was trembling and his eyes were watering, but he gave a half-smile back. He liked the pretty doctor, in her light button-down dress and white lab coat.   
    "Doctor! Doctor!!" The door flew open and a woman holding a little blonde baby stood there, looking ferocious. "Are you the doctor?" she demanded of Ami, who only nodded dumbly. "Good. I have five minutes left to my lunch break and this kid needs his shots." She shoved the baby ungraciously at Ami, who took him and lay him on the examination table, prepping another needle.   
    The woman was tossing her hair, eyes flashing. "I can't believe that idiot left me with the kid like that. I was being gracious – I didn't think he would stick me with a baby and then be late to pick it up! Boy, when I get my hands on him . . ."   
    "Knock knock? Hello?" a man's voice came from the doorway and the woman whirled around.   
    "There you are! You know, I just have two minutes to get back to work – good_bye_."   
    There was a brief silence as Ami finished the needle, then a "Yeesh. That's the last time I take advice from Jadeite."   
    She turned around and smiled sympathetically – then froze. "Zoicite?"   
    The man stared at her. "Ami?"   
    He was a few inches taller than he'd been when she'd last seen him, but she had grown a bit, too. She was a little over average height, and came up to his nose. His hair was longer than the curly shoulder-length mop he used to wear, and its curl was kept in control with some kind of gel or mousse. His chin was stronger and his form a little broader, to equate with the new height, though he would never be thought much more than slim – as handsome as he had ever been, but with a little more polished masculinity about him. His eyes were the same, though. A shining green that caught the light and glittered with humor and joy and some odd emotion that Ami didn't want to place.   
    Ami herself had changed enough, though, too. Zoicite noted immediately that she was taller, but also that she had filled out a bit more and, while still delicately slender and painfully proper, carried an unconscious sensuality about her form – the fact that she was not aware of it only made it more deliciously palpable. Her hair had grown out a bit, long and thick enough to be put in a small ponytail, and lightened to a sweet cerulean from days spent swimming in the English sun. Her features had fined out, her nose straight and delicate, forehead smooth and line-less, chin small and prim, lips full and smooth, and eyes, her ever dark, mysterious eyes, were still blue and just now swimming with a multitude of emotions.   
    "You haven't been eating right," she said finally.   
    "What?" he blinked, confused.   
    She flushed, checked her needle, and turned to the baby that lay fidgeting on the table. "You're too thin," she murmured, swabbing the babe's arm with alcohol. "You haven't been eating right."   
    Zoicite chuckled dryly. "What can I say – I'm not as good a cook as my mom." He watched anxiously as she gave the baby it's shot. It was not old enough yet to be crawling about, but could squirm and flop over with admirable skill and agility.   
    "There we go," she murmured to the child, getting rid of the needle. Placing a big, bright band-aid on it's arm, she picked the child up and carried him to Zoicite. As he took the little boy from her arms, she asked "Your . . . son?" and glanced up at him with those fathomless blue eyes, not quite managing to hide the discomfiture in her voice.   
    Zoicite stared at her, hefting the little boy on his slim hip. "Um . . . no!" he shook his head, "no. He's Gertrude's, my nephew."   
    "Oh," Ami replied, relief lighting her eyes. "How is Gertrude?" she finally asked.   
    Zoicite paused. "Dead." At Ami's horrified gasp, he gave a vague smile that did nothing to reassure her. "Died in child-birth. It happened while I was in college. I would have told you, but . . ." he looked away, voice dropping to a whisper, "you didn't seem to want to hear from me, and I didn't know how to reach you."   
    "Oh, Zoicite," Ami's eyes filled with tears and she put a hand on his arm. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know . . . I wish I could have been there for you . . . I'm sorry."   
    "It's okay. I just feel bad because I wasn't there when your dad died. I found out about it after the funeral was over, from some girls in class. I felt so horrible that you had to go through that alone . . ." he touched her cheek.   
    "I wasn't alone," Ami said, her eyes downcast – but she didn't move away from his touch. "My mom was there – and the girls. They've all been a big help these last couple years."   
    "Ami . . ." he took his hand away and she looked up. "It really hurt when I found out. I thought you would've at least called me . . . I thought you hated me."   
    "No!" Ami threw herself into his side, hugging him almost desperately. "No, I didn't hate you, I never could. I was just _so_ scared. I didn't want to face you again -- I felt so horrible about daddy . . . I couldn't handle any more emotional stress."   
    Zoicite went still. "I was . . . emotional stress to you," he said carefully. Ami stepped away from him, staring at the hurt she saw in his face.   
    "Zoicite . . ."   
    "No, it's okay. I really should go, though . . ."   
    "Ami!" the door burst open and a young woman stood there, looking harassed. "These people are getting impatient!"   
    "Oh!" Ami's hand flew to her mouth. She had completely forgotten about all her patients! What kind of doctor was she?! "Um," she turned to Zoicite, flustered and agitated, and he took the hint.   
    "I'll see you later, Ami," he kissed her lightly on the cheek, hefted the baby further onto his hip, and shouldered the bag the woman had dumped by the door.   
    Usagi watched him go with a curiously amused expression. When he was gone, she turned to Ami and gave the blushing woman an impressed look. "Nice _job_, Ami. Shall I send back the next patient, or do you think you might be getting fresh with Mrs. Womack?"   
    "Shut up," Ami muttered, her cheeks burning. 

Ami got home late that Friday, worn and bedraggled, hair falling out of the neat bun she had put it up in. She shucked her lab coat and tossed it on the couch, putting her feet up on the coffee table, and leaned her head back, massaging her temples for the pounding headache that had been with her since after lunch when she had to give shots to a pack of screaming triplets.   


    She groaned when the phone rang and just let the machine pick it up, tossing a throw-pillow at the offensive noise and missing. Soon, a familiar voice started and Ami sat up. _'Hey, Ami, sorry to bother you. Your receptionist gave me this number. I just needed a babysitter tonight and everyone else was busy – but I guess you are too, since you're not home.'_ There was a pause. _'Anyway. It was nice seeing you yesterday. Maybe we could get together some time – lunch or something. I guess I'll go – ' _he stopped because Ami had picked up.   
    "Zoicite?" she asked.   
    'Hi,' he answered, sounding a little startled.   
    She paused. "What was that about needing a babysitter?"   
    He let out a dry laugh. 'They're making me work tonight. I have to leave in a little bit. Do you think you could come over and watch Jared for me?'   
    "I guess so."   
    He gave her directions and soon she was on her way to his apartment, hands damp on the wheel in nervousness.   
    Zoicite let her into an apartment that might have been very tidy except for the baby clothes and toys cast around. There was a brief pile of dirty dishes in the kitchen, and he led her back to the baby's room. "If he wakes up, his bottle is in the fridge and diapers are in the bathroom, under the sink. If he's hungry, there are some Cheerios in the cabinet. I think that's it." He looked around the apartment, trying to think if he'd forgotten anything. He seemed very nervous.   
    "Don't worry," she put a hand on his arm, hoping to calm him, and he gave her an appreciative look. "What are you working late for?" She realized that she didn't even know what he did for a living.   
    He flushed. "There's a, um, . . . thing." At her confused look, he scratched his head and winced. "I'll see you later, okay?"   
    Respecting his privacy, she nodded and watched him leave, grabbing a dark blue jacket on his way out.   
    "Bye, Ami. And thanks." 

Zoicite arrived at the gas station a few minutes late, and Jadeite got onto him for it. "It's bad enough I have to do this," the blue-eyed blonde muttered, "without you turning my stomach up in knots by being late." Zoicite smirked at the man's talk, quietly and efficiently hooking up Jadeite's wire. The latter man had on a bullet-proof vest as well, since the guy they were trying to catch had a habit of shooting people without much provocation.   


    After surreptitiously checking the security cameras, Zoicite watched Jadeite take the night shift from the clerk. Zoicite sighed and bought a cup of coffee from his friend, taking it out to the van around back. He noted happily that the security cameras were feeding through to the monitors in the van quite clearly.   
    Kunzite, a broad man with pale hair and eyes and darkly tanned skin, looked immediately to the cup of dark liquid in Zoicite's hand. "You have coffee," he said resentfully.   
    "No," Zoicite said, answering the unbidden question. "I'm not getting you any. You're addicted to the stuff as it is."   
    "What about me?" a voice piped up from behind Kunizite, and a blonde head poked around him.   
    Zoicite snorted, smiling. He couldn't help but smile when Minako was around. "You don't need any." It was true. She was a golden little bottle of energy, and could stay awake for exorbitant amounts of time just through willpower. He was a little afraid of what a Minako on caffeine would be like. They probably noticed the shudder he gave, but didn't say anything. Kunzite and Zoicite had gone to college at Tokyo University together, been roommates, and were good friends. But Minako had known Kunzite all through school, so it was only natural that a flame spring back up between the two when she came to work with the Tokyo Mercenary Grep – a privately owned security business. Zoicite tried to be supportive of their relationship, but he was rather annoyed at how much time Minako took from Kunzite's schedule – leaving less and less time for his friends. Nowadays Zoicite was lucky to see his old chum anywhere but at work.   
    Zoicite sat back against the side of the van and finished his coffee. They had fallen silent again. "You know," he crossed his legs, feeling quite calm and happy at his sudden thought, "I have a beautiful woman in my apartment right now."   
    "Really?" Kunzite looked at him, impressed, but sobered at Minako's disapproving glare. "Um, I mean, that's terrible. You shouldn't have to make the poor girl wait for you – we could be out here all night."   
    Zoicite shrugged. "Not like she'd let me do anything with her anyway – she's just babysitting."   
    "Oh, really?" Minako perked up at the mention of the baby. "How is Jared?"   
    "Doing better," Zoicite smiled. "I've gotten used to having him around, but buying diapers and stuff digs into my savings."   
    "Just think about when he goes to college," Minako smirked and Zoicite grimaced delicately.   
    "I'd rather _not_." 

It was two in the morning when Zoicite got home. The perp they were hired to catch had shown up around midnight and it had all been rather quick, but the police had demanded all the proper paperwork be filled out immediately. Minako and Jadeite had been allowed to go home while he and Kunzite stayed. He flexed his wrist and opened the door, hand still cramped from all the writing and eyes bleary with sleep.   


    Zoicite smiled when he saw a silky blue head resting on the arm of his couch. Ami had fallen asleep, half curled on the cushions, eyes closed and hair falling over her cheek.   
    "Ami, honey," he murmured, shaking her shoulder. She stirred but didn't wake. "Ami," he chuckled, thinking of how cute she looked.   
    Unfocused blue eyes fluttered open, disoriented, and Ami sat up groggily, putting a hand to her head.   
    "Hey, Sleeping Beauty," he smiled at her.   
    "Zoicite," she repressed a yawn. "What time is it?"   
    "2 A.M.," he replied, smile turning pained as her eyes widened. "I know, I'm really late – I'm sorry. They kept me much longer than I had expected." It was a lie, of course. He had actually not expected to be back this early, but if he'd mentioned that Ami would be curious about his job, and he wasn't allowed to talk about it.   
    "Oh," she replied, eyes suddenly finding the couch cushions incredibly interesting. After a moment, she spoke hesitantly. "Zoicite . . . we're both adults, and you don't have to lie if you were out with someone."   
    He blinked at her, startled, then turned her face to his, breath catching when she closed her eyes and leaned her cheek into his palm. It was obvious that she was too tired to be thinking about what she was doing, but it was still sweet. "Ami," his voice came out in a hoarse whisper and he swallowed, then tried again. "Ami, I wasn't out with anyone. I really was working. Promise."   
    She yawned, falling forward onto his chest, and nuzzled his shoulder. "I'm too sleepy to care," she murmured, limp.   
    Zoicite, blushing, refrained from chuckling and instead scooped her up, carrying her to the room just past Jared's and pushing the door open. He put her down on the rumpled dark blue bed and watched her curl up again, smiling faintly. Glancing around, he noticed the slightly unkempt state of the room and tidied up a bit before grabbing a spare blanket and going back to the couch, noting that he'd remembered to lock the door. He was asleep almost as soon as he lay down. 

Zoicite woke up to the smell of bacon. It was a warm, cosy aroma, wrapping him in it's crackling scent, giving him a feeling he hadn't had since he'd left home. He got up, massaging a crick in his neck from the uncomfortable difference of sleeping on the couch, and walked over to the kitchen doorway. Ami puttered about in the same skirt and tank top she had been wearing the night before – though a bit more rumpled from sleeping in them.   


    She didn't notice him right away, and Zoicite was happy just to watch her frying bacon, humming under her breath. A carton of eggs stood open next to the stove and she started putting the finished bacon on a plate covered with paper towels to absorb the extra grease. When she finished, she cast a look behind her, as if to check for Zoicite on the couch, and started, staring at him.   
    "Um," she stammered, then collected herself. "Do you like your eggs scrambled or fried?"   
    "Fried," he said softly, giving her a curious look, but she only flushed and turned to the egg carton, picking one out delicately and breaking it into the pan. Zoicite was bemused. She had been so warm and sweet last night, and now it seemed she was afraid of him. He'd felt it in the doctor's office when he saw her – an uncomfortable tension that told him she was no nearer to accepting his old declaration of love than when he had given it.   
    At least she was talking to him now, he theorized. And making him breakfast – he almost grinned, but turned away so she wouldn't look again and see his joy. Zoicite decided to go clean up a bit while she was making the eggs – his mouth felt like something had died in it.   
    Ami's heart was pounding. She hadn't known he had been watching her, and when she saw him he had been wearing a disarmingly tender smile. She tried to ignore the weakness in her knees from seeing him, tousled and charming in the morning sunlight, and finally knocked the feeling away by concentrating on the eggs.   
    Zoicite brushed his hair and tied it back hurriedly. Checking himself once more in the mirror, he went out and into Jared's room, already smelling his morning work. His nose wrinkled and he went over to the already whining child, picking him up and carrying him to the changing table. "If there wasn't a beautiful woman in the kitchen making us breakfast," Zoicite whispered as he worked, "this would be much more unpleasant."   
    Finally, he carried Jared out to the living room, where he had one of the nicest sights – Ami arranging their breakfast on the coffee table. He daydreamed for a moment that this happened every morning – that they were a nice, happy little family, that Ami would look up and smile, kiss him on the cheek, and they would all eat together.   
    But then Ami looked up and paused, blushing, then straightened abruptly. "It's a thank-you," she gestured to the steaming bacon and eggs, "for letting me stay here last night. It would have been really dangerous to drive home so late . . ."   
    Zoicite waved it off, going over to sit down and settle Jared in the child seat Ami had pulled in. "I'm just glad you're not mad for making you stay so long." He looked up at her apologetically and she looked away.   
    "I don't mind," she murmured, nibbling a piece of bacon.   
    Zoicite started cutting up Jared's eggs for him and smiled. "I must admit, I'm notorious for having to work long nights. It's really hard to keep any one babysitter for long. Especially since I can't pay much." His eyes flashed and he suddenly dug in his pocket. "That reminds me – here." He was holding out a wad of crumpled bills, and Ami just stared at them.   
    "Zoicite . . ."   
    "For babysitting. It's not much, but you earned it." He insisted. When she didn't take it, he put it on the table by her plate.   
    Ami fought the tears back. He was paying her?! She'd come over because – well, he was an old friend. She'd done it for him, not money. It felt as if he'd slapped her. "I . . . should go," she stood up, turning blindly, and felt hands on her shoulders, stopping her.   
    "Ami, please don't," Zoicite said, and she chanced a look up at him. He looked worried and scared and unhappy. "I'm sorry, what did I do wrong? I'll make it up, just please don't go."   
    "Zoicite," she shook her head, the tears filling her eyes despite herself. "I didn't do it for _money_, I did it for _you_!" She grabbed her purse and left him standing there, baffled and miserable, while the eggs got cold. 

"And then she left," Zoicite muttered wretchedly, chin in his hand. The other four listening to him sat in silence for awhile, the three men as confused as Zoicite was, Minako gaping at him in horror.   


    "You tried to _pay_ her?!" the blonde finally burst out, as if that was the worst thing in the world.   
    "What's wrong with that?" Zoicite asked, defensive. "I always pay my babysitters." He felt a squirming in his stomach, as if he had done something wrong, but he still didn't know why she had gotten so upset about it.   
    Minako gave a long-suffering glance heavenward and looked back at Zoicite. "She said she came over for you. Don't you even get that? She had to knock down her pride to start associating with you again, and from what you tell us, she's not the most outgoing girl. When you treated her like just some other 'babysitter,' you really hurt her feelings. It probably felt like you'd punched her in the gut or something."   
    "So I hurt her feelings by treating her like I would anyone else," he said slowly, just barely catching on.   
    "_Yeah_," Minako said, as if it was completely obvious. "I know I'd kill _him_ if I came back from college and he treated me like a stranger." She glared at Kunzite, who looked a little nervous. "And she sounds a little like this friend I had a while back. If they're anything alike, then I pity you trying to get back on her good side."   
    "So what do I do?" he asked slowly.   
    "You apologize and make it up to her."   
    "How?"   
    Minako shrugged. "You were her best friend – you'd know her better than I would."   
    The phone rang and the little meeting broke up. They had the rest of the day off since they'd worked all the last night. Zoicite was picking up his coat when one of his listeners, Nephrite Brown, came over to him.   
    "Zoi, would you mind doing me a favor?"


	3. Dirty Diapers

Part Three: Dirty Diapers 

Ocean Breeze Daycare. Ami looked up at the cheery sign and smiled, the wind ruffling her hair. Her distraught cousin, Michiru Kaioh, had called that morning, upset at the overload of children and sudden wave of sickness among her workers.   
    Ami knocked on the door. After only moments, it was thrown open and she was dragged in, stumbling along behind the tall blonde who pulled her. "Work," the blonde said, pushing her toward a jumble of children. Ami stared, wondering where to start. Catching sight of a little brown-haired girl in tears, she knelt beside her on the floor.   
    "What's wrong?" The little girl sniffled and glared at her. Ami reached over to a table nearby and grabbed some Kleenex, handing them to the little girl.   
    The little girl swiped her nose on the wad and threw them on the floor, grumpily. "Bobby said I was a poopy-head and _I want my mommeeeeeee_!" She kicked the floor in a temper tantrum and Ami rocked back on her heels, startled.   
    A familiar voice spoke from behind Ami's ear and she froze. "You're not a poopy-head, Bobby is. You want a cookie?" A slim, strong hand stretched into view, a chocolate chip cookie in it, and the little girl sniffled in interest, then took the cookie. Ami, suddenly warm enough to move, turned and looked over her shoulder. "Hi," Zoicite smiled nervously, still kneeling just behind her, looking rakish and wind-blown and very, very handsome.   
    "What are you doing here?" she asked, confused by his presence and the twisting fuzzy feeling in her stomach.   
    "One of my friends, Nephrite, volunteers here sometimes – Ms. Kaioh called him, but he couldn't make it and asked me if I could come. He kind of has a crush on one of the other volunteers." He grinned, nodding to a tall, friendly-looking brunette across the room, and shrugged. "Why are you here?"   
    "Michiru is my cousin," she smiled, blushing a little at the talk about crushes. She knew Nephrite and had a vague inkling that Makoto fully reciprocated the feeling. "She asked me to help out."   
    Zoicite nodded, an uncomfortable silence falling between the two until a little boy toddled up and fell onto Zoicite's knee, drooling on his jeans. Zoicite stared at him, then laughed a little. Ami giggled and their eyes met, all discomfort and unhappiness disappearing like vapor – suddenly they were teenagers again, laughing together over something completely shocking and sweet, connected on a level that was more than just mind or heart. Their souls touched, and Zoicite suddenly knew he was forgiven. He basked in the glow of her smile, having missed it for so many years.   
    "Cookie?" the little boy on Zoicite's knee asked, looking up at him expectantly, and Ami smiled.   
    "Looks like you've become rather popular." A small crowd of children now surrounded them. Zoicite cleared his throat uncomfortably and pointed the children to the tray of cookies Michiru had brought out only a minute before – the woman was just then pouring paper cups and sippy-bottles of juice. He settled onto the carpet beside Ami as a tidal wave of demanding children swarmed around the woman's legs. Zoicite grimaced as she almost dropped a cup of juice on the seething crowd of tots.   
    "Hey, cutie," the blonde, Haruka Tenou, pushed in between Ami and Zoicite, throwing an around Ami's shoulders and winking at her.   
    "Hi, Haruka," Ami blushed, smiling softly.   
    Zoicite frowned as he was ungraciously ignored. Who was this guy?   
    "How's my little mouse today? Feeling better?"   
    "Quite better, thank you." Ami smiled.   
    "Mouse here threw up the other day," Haruka told Zoicite, and Ami blushed, looking away.   
    "Really," Zoicite murmured, looking at Ami in concern.   
    "Yeah, hasn't been too well lately, have ya?" Haruka held Ami a little tighter and looked at her closely, seemingly pleased that she was becoming uncomfortable.   
    "I must have picked up a bug from one of my patients," Ami shrugged a little, waving it off, but was still flushed – probably with the proximity of Haruka's teasing face to hers.   
    Zoicite cleared his throat and glared at Haruka pointedly.   
    Haruka only seemed to find this amusing and turned again to Ami. "I think your boyfriend here's jealous. What do you say we give him something to be jealous about?" Quick as a flash, Haruka had kissed Ami smartly on the lips.   
    Ami blinked. Blinked again. And burst into laughter. When she had regained herself, she shook her head at Haruka. "I think that did more to make Michiru jealous than anything," she smiled, traces of laughter undermining her warning. Sure enough, Miss Kaioh was staring at them from beside the cookie tray, mouth pinched in annoyance. When she finally noticed the bright red juice dribbling down her front, she grabbed a handful of napkins and shot Haruka a Look, swiping madly at the stain.   
    Haruka sighed and grimaced. "Excuse me." She went to the brown-haired helper, Makoto Kino, and told her to finish feeding the kids. Then Haruka took Michiru to help her get the juice stain out.   
    Zoicite and Ami sat for a moment in silence, not looking at each other. Finally, Zoicite asked her softly "Are you still mad at me?"   
    "What?" Ami looked at him, still somewhat flushed.   
    "For trying to pay you," he rushed ahead, "I just wasn't thinking about what I was doing – I always pay my babysitters and I didn't think . . ."   
    Ami flushed further, but with anger. "No, you didn't think. I would do _anything_ for Jared and you treated me like some pimply-faced school girl in _pigtails_!"   
    "Ami . . ." Zoicite winced and glanced at Miss Kino. "People are staring – could we take this somewhere else?"   
    "Fine," she stood and stormed into the back. Zoicite followed her and shut the door lightly behind them.   
    Zoicite sighed. "I didn't mean to upset you. I didn't know it would mean so much to you."   
    "Why not? We were best friends since we were _six_! You said it yourself, I'm part of your family." She glared at him defiantly.   
    Zoicite felt a matching anger rise in him and he stepped toward her, green eyes narrowed and voice deceptively soft. "You left."   
    Ami stopped, something painful and sad crossing her gaze. She opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a shrill beeping.   
    "Good God," Zoicite cursed, frustrated, and pulled out his cell phone, flipping it open. "What?" he snapped. After a brief silence, he scowled, cast a look heavenward, and sent a clipped "Fine" to the caller, hanging up.   
    Ami stood silently, struggling with her hurt pride.   
    "I have to go," Zoicite breathed, annoyed. "Damn, he has the worst timing." He sighed and looked at Ami from under thick blonde bangs. "You wouldn't be able to watch Jared for me if I'm late, would you?"   
    Ami sighed her anger out. "Fine."   
    "Thank you." His voice held a note of grudging gratitude, and Ami only nodded as he turned and left. 

Ami stayed late, but Zoicite never came back. She was just grabbing Jared and his bag when Makoto Kino came up to her, smiling. Since Ami volunteered regularly on weekends, she and Makoto had managed to strike up their old friendship. She had negligently forgotten to mention that when Zoicite had been talking to her earlier – he might think she was obsessed with kids: pediatrician, volunteering, what next?   


    "I'm going to the mall to find a dress for my date this Friday – you wanna come?"   
    Ami bit her lip and looked at Jared. "Okay, but I'm gonna have to bring the baby." As they left, Ami thought to ask. "Who are you going out with?"   
    Makoto grinned. "Nephrite."   
    Ami giggled and settled Jared in Makoto's car, checking his seat-belt. "Well, I hope you two have fun." She slipped into the passenger seat.   
    "We will," Makoto's eyes slipped soft as she daydreamed, starting the car.   
    Soon they were at the mall, Ami hefting Jared along as they walked, talking and laughing. Ami was certain, as she switched Jared to the other arm, that next time she would make Zoicite lend her the baby stroller.   
    "So what was the deal with you and blondie back at the daycare?" Makoto called through the dressing room door. "He seemed pretty upset there."   
    Ami sighed, pulling her chin away as Jared grabbed at it. "Yeah." Makoto opened the door for Ami to pass judgement on a little black dress. "Too slutty," Ami immediately said.   
    "Mm," Makoto agreed and did a little turn. "I still look good, though, right?"   
    "Prettiest hooker on the block," Ami smiled, Jared tugged on one of her earrings, and Makoto rolled her eyes.   
    "So what _was_ with that guy?" Makoto asked when she had settled on a short hunter-green Chinese-cut, patterned in gold.   
    Ami sighed again. "An old friend."   
    "Cute old friend," Makoto muttered appreciatively. She eyed Jared. "That his kid?"   
    Ami hugged the baby tighter to her. "His sister's. He's the guardian, though."   
    Makoto frowned, voice soft and contemplative. "That must be tough for a single guy."   
    Ami looked away, troubled. "I'm not sure he's single." She remembered the woman who had brought Jared to the doctor's office, her long tumble of red hair, the huff she had been in, talking as if she knew Zoicite quite personally. At least, as if she associated with him regularly. Then he had talked about "all his babysitters." She wouldn't be surprised if women threw themselves at him – he was very good-looking.   
    Her reverie was broken by Makoto's loud, healthy laugh. "Sweetie, he's single. For one, I could tell just by the way he was looking at you. For another, not many women would take on a man with a baby for very long – no matter _how_ gorgeous the guy is."   
    Ami looked at Makoto again, surprised at the truth of her statement – the woman strode along with a presence that demanded attention. She was tall and strong, with a full, firm figure and a daring light in her green eyes, her sense of humor hanging around about her mouth. She was notorious for her flirting abilities – as well as her right hook – and Ami had no choice but to admire the woman's prowess in the kitchen. (On week days, Makoto was the reigning queen of her own restaurant.)   
    They reached a small, dim coffee shop by one of the mall entrances and took a table by the wall. It was in the middle of a conversation about candle scents that Ami noticed a blonde couple across from the coffee shop. Makoto followed her gaze and snorted.   
    "That's disgusting," she sipped at her coffee and Ami silently agreed. The two were up against the wall, all over each other. They shifted and Ami noticed a flash of almost completely bare leg. The girl was wearing a black dress even smaller and tighter than the one Makoto had tried on earlier, and now her smooth, nyloned leg was firmly wrapped around the man, in the nook of his knee. It was a very intimate position.   
    Then the couple shifted and the man glanced behind him at a thin, scraggly-looking man entering the coffee shop, and Ami gasped, her vision spinning.   
    Zoicite?   
    "Mm, look at this cutie," Makoto was saying, looking across the coffee shop at a table in the back, but Ami didn't look – she couldn't. Her eyes were locked to the back of a dark blonde head, now bent to the blonde woman's neck, kissing it. The woman was whispering something in his ear, but Ami didn't care, she stood and moved toward Zoicite, everything but that couple blocked out. She didn't hear Makoto's worried call, or see the man in back the latter woman had approved of – a silvery blonde who kept sending annoyed glances across the coffee shop, at the couple. Nor did she see the scraggly, unwashed man join him.   
    "Zoicite," she whispered roughly, right behind him. The woman stared at her, blue eyes unnaturally wide in surprise, red lips in a perfect "O." Ami didn't look at her. Her entire being, all her rage, was centered on green eyes, shocked wide in horror.   
    "Ami," Zoicite breathed, white. Suddenly, something hot swept through his eyes, and he grabbed Ami's arm. "What the _hell_ are you doing here?" he hissed.   
    "What am _I_ doing here?! That's a thing to ask while you're wrapped around some stupid _blonde_!" Ami ranted, fuming.   
    "Hey," Zoicite glared, affronted, "_I'm_ not the one who kissed a guy at the Daycare Center!"   
    Ami tossed her hair, straightening her spine. "If you had _bothered_ to notice," she began, "Haruka is not only dating Michiru, she was _trying_ to annoy you."   
    Zoicite blinked. ". . . She?"   
    Ami sighed. "Yes, she. Haruka's a girl."   
    "Are you sure?" he looked skeptical, blonde eyebrows drawn together.   
    "You're one to ask," Ami growled, getting hot again, "making out in the middle of a mall with some silicone-based slut with a bad dye job!"   
    Minako's eyes widened and she peered at a handful of hair. It wasn't dye . . . Though it was quite interesting watching her old college roommate blow up. She leaned against the wall to enjoy the show.   
    "Hey," Zoicite glared. He might have been uncomfortable with his position on this job (he knew Kunzite was planning to kill him afterward), but Minako didn't deserve that kind of deprecation. He refrained, admirably, from stating this, since it would jeopardize the security of the job, but a thought struck him. "What are you even doing here? Where's Jared?"   
    "He's here – in the coffee shop."   
    "You left him alone?!" Zoicite cried.   
    "No, you idiot! I came here with a friend – she's watching him."   
    Zoicite sighed in relief, looking as if he'd really been scared.   
    Ami just shook her head, calming a little. "You _told_ me you weren't coming in so late because you were out with women. You should have had the decency to tell me the truth."   
    Minako spotted the target coming out of the coffee shop and slunk away from the argument, approaching the man. Their suspect had a weakness for two things – drugs and women. Their team had devised a way to play on both.   
    "I _was_ working," Zoicite snapped. He waved an arm, not missing that Minako had approached the man they were watching. "Why do you even _care_?!"   
    Ami's face was red with fury, her eyes sparking and flashing. "Because I _love_ you, you idiot!" she snapped, and her hand flew to her mouth, eyes widening. "Oh God," she turned away and flew into the coffee shop, Zoicite staring at her retreating form.   
    It was then that he noticed their perp trying to steer Minako out of the mall. He tried to rectify his mistake and took a step in that direction when Jadeite swept by him, pushing him back a little with a sympathetic wink, and went after the couple.   
    Relieved, Zoicite slipped into the coffee shop and trotted over to Ami and Makoto's table, where the former was desperately trying to gather baby, diaper bag, and purse in her arms – an interesting feat since tears were blinding her. When Zoicite considerately took Jared from her, she whirled and dropped both the bags, bending feverishly to pick them up.   
    "Good thing I didn't take your purse," Zoicite murmured, lifting an eyebrow wryly.   
    Ami sent him a poisonous glare.   
    "Ami," he whispered, bending down to help her pick up the diapers that had spilled everywhere. "Please talk to me. I'll take you home, but you have to talk to me."   
    "I have a ride," she bit back. He touched her shoulder gently, but pulled back when she hit him in the face with a diaper.   
    Makoto surveyed them with a growing interest and finally stepped in. "No you don't," she told Ami smoothly. The slender woman stuffing diapers heatedly back into the bag froze and looked up, her eyes wide.   
    "What?"   
    Makoto put one fist on her hip and took Ami aside for a moment. "Girl, I don't know what's going on and I don't know what you're playing at, but the way that man's looking at you – has been looking at you all day – I think it's best you talk to him."   
    Ami glared, but Makoto stood firm and saw Ami into Zoicite's van, the former fuming indignantly the whole way. Makoto told them she'd take Jared for the night, since they needed some quiet.   
    "Ami," Zoicite looked at her in the passenger-side seat, staring out of the window and ignoring him. Anger flared up in his stomach. She wouldn't even listen to him! "Ami," he said sharply, and she turned to glare at him, her blue eyes sullen and wet. He sighed, the anger fading as quickly as it had come.   
    She had, after all, professed her love of him back there.   
    "Did you mean it?" he finally said, gazing at the dashboard.   
    Ami flushed, losing her glare, and looked away. There was no way she could play that one off. She sighed and closed her eyes painfully. "Yes." She kept seeing that woman wrapped around him. It hurt.   
    Zoicite let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He sat back and surveyed Ami with slowly burgeoning joy. She loved him. He impulsively leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "I am going to prove to you, right now, that the girl was absolutely nothing to me." He started the van and Ami looked at him apprehensively.   
    "What do you mean?" She was twisting the material of her shirt in suddenly damp hands, but he didn't reply immediately. They were heading down a busy street, the street lights flickering over them as they moved, and Ami had a flash of deja vu as she looked at Zoicite's thoughtful profile, his long slender fingers lightly manipulating the wheel.   
    "I'm taking you to work with me," he murmured as they pulled up to a parking garage in a particularly quiet part of town.   
    The streetlight across from the entrance was burnt out.   
    "Hey Mr. James," the security guard greeted, peering inside the van. His brow furrowed. "Who's the girl?"   
    "This is Dr. Mizuno," Zoicite replied with perfect calm and confidence. Ami tried to smile.   
    The guard frowned oddly at Zoicite, but let them through.   
    Zoicite parked the van among an assortment of cars, several of them with licence plates obscured by mud and filth.   
    "Come on," he took Ami's elbow gently and led her across the garage to an elevator, punching in a complicated code on the number pad beside the yellowing doors.   
    They stepped onto the elevator, the floor stained dark in several spots, as if someone had dropped a lot of grape juice around and it hadn't been cleaned properly.   
    "What do you do, Zoicite?" Ami asked softly as they started moving.   
    He looked at her sideways, noticing the lock of hair she pushed behind her ear and how her eyes traveled over the blood stains on the floor. He felt a sudden wave of tender protectiveness and wished fervently that she would stop looking at the stains.   
    "I'm a technology expert for this security business," he said, hands in his pockets.   
    Ami looked up at him hesitantly and pushed a little more hair behind her ear. "And that should make me trust you . . . why?"   
    "People hire us, Ami, and we take care of things the police don't have time for. That jerk we caught today had just gotten out on parole and killed someone – the brother of the deceased got us to catch the guy on drug use and a few other things – anything that would violate the guy's parole and put him back in jail for awhile. They assigned me the job of hanging with the 'hooker' until the guy came along." Zoicite took Ami's chin and turned her reluctant face towards him, smiling faintly. "If it weren't for your outburst, I'd probably have gotten a face full of her boyfriend's fist when we all got back. He was in the coffee shop, playing the muscle for a drug dealer."   
    Ami frowned. "She has a boyfriend?" Zoicite chuckled and nodded, but the elevator doors opened before she could say anything else.   
    Ami started to move, but found a tight arm around her waist, pulling her against Zoicite's tall, strong body. "I'm in real trouble for bringing you here," he murmured in her ear before they stepped out, "so follow my lead and keep your eyes down."   
    Ami said nothing and moved as he pushed her lightly, keeping one hand on the small of her back. She ignored the stares and odd looks people gave when they entered, keeping her eyes down and concentrating on the feel of Zoicite's warm fingers on her back. Near the end of the office, Ami saw familiar long, stockinged legs and followed them up to a little black dress smaller than the one Makoto had tried on earlier, smooth white skin, soft lips painted startlingly red, a straight, classic nose, blue eyes wide with surprise, and a fall of gloriously long, silken wheat-blonde hair. The girl was sitting on the edge of a desk, picking at her nails as a man with silvery-blonde hair and sharp grey eyes stood close by and talked to her.   
    Ami stopped and stared. "_Minako?!_"   
    The girl sent Zoicite a confused and very concerned look, then smiled in bemusement at Ami. "Hey girl. Long time, ne?"   
    Zoicite stepped up. "You two know each other?"   
    "Roommates in college," Minako replied easily, turning to chastise Zoicite. "You didn't tell me all the details, Zoi-boy. If I'd known it was Ami you were talking about all the time, I could have helped. Though," she winked at her blue-haired friend, "it was really cool seeing my oh-so-serious pal blow up at an idiot guy."   
    "I resent that," Zoicite muttered sullenly.   
    "It's true," Minako told him relentlessly, tossing her hair. "If you had been smart, you would never have let such a great gal go," Minako hugged Ami, then straightened as she saw something over Zoicite's shoulder. "Uh oh," she muttered.   
    Only moment's later, Ami found out what "uh oh" was.   
    "What the _hell_?! James, get in my office!" someone yelled roughly. "NOW!" Ami turned and saw a fuming man of stocky build and balding head. He had a dress shirt and tie on, but they were ill-pressed and too loose to look dressy. There were stains under the arms and the man had a sweaty, round face that at the moment was flushed an unpleasant red.   
    "Sir," Zoicite nodded, pressing Ami's arm, indicating that she stay, and walked into the office, followed by the man. Ami was surprised, after the door slammed, that she could hear nothing going on inside.   
    Good insulation, she mused.   
    "So you're the babysitter," Minako murmured, looking at Ami curiously. "How do you like Jared?"   
    Ami perked up. "He's adorable! I really like kids – of course, that's why I'm a pediatrician – but I'm really fond of him, especially since he's Gertrude's boy." Ami smiled, then flushed a bit. "Oh, Gertrude is Zoicite's big sister," she added.   
    "Yeah," Minako nodded. "I knew Gertrude: we all did. She worked here until last year, when she was killed." Minako's voice trailed off and she looked away.   
    Ami stopped. "Zoicite said she died in childbirth when he was in college."   
    Minako seemed startled. "No, he got out early. They worked here for awhile together, and he supported her when she was pregnant with Jared." She looked at the dawning dejection on Ami's face. "Sit down sweetie, and have some coffee. It's horrible – Jadeite made it – but it might steady your nerves." She watched Ami sipping at the mug Kunzite had brought her. "I'm sure he was just trying to spare you from all this stuff. I'm sorry I told you – I shouldn't have."   
    "I'm glad you did," Ami replied fiercely. "At least you're being honest with me."   
    Minako tilted her head a little. "I think Zoicite tried to be honest with you – as much as he could, in this line of work."   
    "Why does it all have to be so secretive?" Ami frowned.   
    "Because we do a bit of spy work, too – for the government. If there's a leak, some of the people in here could be killed."   
    Something clicked. "Is that how Gertrude died?"   
    Minako blinked and gave a wan smile. "Yeah. Someone blabbed to the wrong people and she was shot in the back of the head just a month after the little guy was born. We all took it kinda hard – she was a cool chick."   
    Ami nodded, remembering Gertrude's dramatic flair for clothes: black Gothic dresses, leopard print tights, knee-high boots, and hot pink skirts. She had a brief stint with smoking, but ditched it when her mother bribed her with ten pairs of assorted platform shoes. All around, though, Gertrude did a lot of things for Ami – drove her and Zoicite around when they were still too young for licenses, went out and got fast food for them all when Mrs. James had an evening engagement, and helped Ami and Zoicite take care of the little stray kitten they adopted (single-handedly organizing the funeral after a truck hit it a week later). She even (Ami blushed at the memory it brought up) lent Ami swimsuits when she forgot hers.   
    "Ami," a gentle hand slipped to her shoulder from behind and she turned to look at Zoicite. He was gazing at the leg of the desk as he spoke to her. "He wants to see you." Ami couldn't help noticing with trepidation that Zoicite's hair was slightly mussed and he looked as if he'd just come back from war.   
    The office was dim, since the only light given was from a shaded lamp in the back corner. The broad, sweaty man stood beside the lamp, pouring a glass of clear liquid for himself, and didn't turn when she shut the door behind her.   
    Ami stood beside the door for a while, trying not to fidget, and when he finally looked at her it was with eyes swallowed by the room's darkness. It seemed almost as if he had no eyes – just black pits ready to swallow her and suck her dry of all life and love.   
    "In exchange for your knowledge of us," the man finally said, the dark pits deeper and more terrifying than before, "you have to do us a favor." 


	4. Intermission

Part Four -- Intermission 

"I'm sorry about that," Zoicite said when they were in the car – Zoicite's car, not the van this time. His head was bowed and he looked decidedly vulnerable and sad. "I didn't think he'd do that to you . . ."   
    "It's okay," Ami whispered.   
    "No it's _not_!" he banged his fist against the steering wheel, green eyes wet and angry, glittering brokenly in the dim lights of the parking garage. "I didn't want you to get involved in this, not like . . ." he broke off and turned away from her.   
    "Gertrude," she finished softly for him. She was looking out of the windshield but couldn't see anything. There was an artificial calm around her like a big swath of cotton, muffling everything, and the whole scene seemed completely unreal. "I understand," she continued in a voice wrapped with unreality, still looking blankly out the windshield. "You don't want me to die like Gertrude." Zoicite opened his mouth, eyes wide, but Ami lowered her eyes to the dashboard and spoke again, voice flat. "Minako told me."   
    It was a moment before he spoke. "I'm sorry, Ami," he whispered hoarsely. "I understand if you hate me, but . . . I didn't want you to get messed up in everything. I love you too much."   
    "I know," she said, and slipped her arms around him, holding him as he apologized over and over and over. She knew, holding him, that all of this changed . . . everything. 

It was much later that night that Ami awoke to faint noises. She rolled over, reaching out, and noticed that Zoicite was gone. Her brow furrowed lightly, but she wasn't upset. He had probably gone to get something to drink. Admittedly, she was rather thirsty herself. With an oddly foreboding pit in the middle of her stomach, she slipped out of the dark-sheeted bed and noticed that her clothes, where she had discarded them onto the floor, were gone, though his still lay there, rumpled. Blinking, she wrapped the sheet around herself and walked out to the living room.   


    "I'm done." Ami heard a woman's voice and stopped just shy of the living room. Peeking carefully around the corner, though the hall and living room were very dark, she saw Zoicite in his boxers and a robe talking to the red-haired woman who had stormed in with Jared that day at the clinic.   
    "Will you please keep your voice down?" Zoicite hissed.   
    "Why?" the woman tossed her hair, but her voice dropped a notch, laced thickly through with spite. "Afraid your little whore of a girlfriend will wake up and catch us?"   
    Zoicite took a terse step toward her, fist clenching. "If you weren't a woman . . ."   
    His voice was low and dark, and the red-head took a step back, trying not to show how startled she actually was. She tossed her hair again nervously, not meeting his eyes. "Yeah, well, you owe me now. I did you a favor."   
    "You did the boss a favor," Zoicite sneered, stepping back and picking up some things off the couch – Ami's clothes. "Get out."   
    "You," the woman spluttered, and Ami realized he was going to catch her if she didn't move. She slunk back into the hall shadows, carefully trying to keep the sheet from swishing against the carpet, and moved toward the bedroom. Still, she didn't bother to pretend to be sleeping when the door of the apartment slammed and Zoicite came in moments later, tossing her clothes by his on the floor.   
    When his brooding gaze settled on her anxious face, he softened and sat beside her, stroking her hair. "Why are you awake?" he murmured.   
    She frowned at him, wanting to ask quite a few questions, but settled on the most basic. "What were you doing with my clothes?"   
    "Debugging them," Zoicite sighed, and she could tell from the harassed expression that entered his eyes and quirked his mouth that he was telling the truth. That was the look of a man who had just been recently annoyed.   
    "They were bugged?"   
    "Uh huh. I didn't have my debugger thingy, so I had to ask one of the operatives who lives in this building to come up and help me," he murmured, kissing her hair. Ami noticed that he didn't mention it had been a woman. He perceived her distress and assured her, "I didn't let them come back here, though. I would never do that to you." He smiled and kissed her sleepily on the nose, pulling the sheet from her grasp and nuzzling into her, drawing the cover up over them. So soft . . . so warm . . .   
    He fell asleep soon after, but Ami lay awake for some while, thoughts puttering about in her head. 

Ami was making breakfast in one of Zoicite's dress shirts the next morning, freshly washed. She was humming a happy tune when arms slipped about her waist from behind and lips settled on the bare spot where shoulder curved into throat.   


    "Good morning," she smiled, blushing a little as green eyes glanced up at her lazily from under dark blonde bangs.   
    His hold on her waist tightened. "What do you say we have a repeat of last night after breakfast, hm?"   
    Ami felt her ears heat and didn't reply, but a shy smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. He was just starting to unbutton the shirt when his cell phone, on the counter, shrilled. Zoicite groaned and turned to pick it up.   
    "Hello?"   
    Ami concentrated on the bacon, since it was about to burn, but listened shamelessly to his conversation.   
    "Now? Do I have to, Kunzite?" he complained, then listened for a minute and sighed. "Fine fine. You do know you have the worst timing on the planet, right?" He paused for a moment, then smiled, laughter lacing his voice. "At least you know it. Bye." He shut it and put it back down on the counter, wrapping his arms about Ami again. "Go get dressed – I have to go to work and I'll take you home on the way." Still embracing her, he picked up the pan of bacon and set it aside, turning the stove off.   
    "Now?" Ami asked, heart beating heavily in her chest.   
    He kissed her on the nose. "Don't worry. I'll call you if I get home early."   
    Ami leaned back into his warmth. "Okay," she agreed, turning to kiss him fully, her soft lips hesitant. Before she could make him forget about the appointment, he pushed her away and toward the bedroom.   
    "Go," he murmured, swatting her lightly on the rump and smiling at her indignant, sullen little glare. 

Ami blew the hair from her eyes and attempted a strained smile for the ebony woman talking and peering over her shoulder. It was tough enough to hear the child's heartbeat over his cries, but his mother's persistent invasion of Ami's space was increasing the tension in her limbs. Zoicite still hadn't called and she was loaded with patients. The longer he took, the deeper her stomach sunk.   


    Why didn't he mention that his fellow operative last night had been a woman? Didn't he trust her to understand? Did he think she was so petty? Ami frowned at herself. She needed to trust Zoicite and forget the nagging ideas that pricked her mind about their intimate night. He wouldn't have used her just to satisfy himself – he was nobler than that. He loved her and would never hurt her. . . .   
    "Need any help?" a dark blue head popped in the door, smiling, and Ami was startled out of her thoughts.   
    "Mom!" she greeted in relief. "Yeah, could you do a check-up on the Terrion triplets?"   
    "Sure, dear," the older woman and hung her coat on a peg by the door, dropping her purse on a chair under it. As she went out to collect the three boys, Usagi popped in.   
    "You have a phone call, Ami!"   
    "I'll get it on the extension," she replied, reaching past the little boy to grab her phone and jab the blinking button. "Hello?" Zoicite? she prayed.   
    "What happened last night?" Makoto's voice demanded eagerly and Ami's hopes dropped.   
    She scowled. "I'm at work, Makoto – do you mind?"   
    "So it was that good?" Ami blushed; she could practically _see_ her friend's smile.   
    Ami sighed, exasperated, and rolled her eyes. "I'll call you later, I promise."   
    "Fine," Makoto replied too-casually and Ami hung up, frowning at the phone for a moment before her mother bustled the little boys in. After that, she didn't have time to worry about Makoto's curiosity or Zoicite not calling. 


	5. Theft

Part Five: Theft 

Her cell phone rang at lunch. It was the day after Zoicite had promised to call and she pressed the button with eager fingers, swallowing the pesky salad that stuck in her throat and ignoring her mother who sat across the small, round black table from her.   
    "Hello?"   
    Her slim white hands were trembling and her blue eyes were bright – there were two spots of color on her cheeks.   
    She was beautiful, the waiter noted as he refilled her water. He blushed, looking away, and went back to the kitchen.   
    "Zoicite?" she breathed. Her mother was looking at her, but she didn't acknowledge the older woman.   
    "No, it's Minako," a cheerful voice lilted. "Zoicite crashed in the van and we took him home."   
    "What?!" Ami cried, eyes widening. "Is he all right?" She had a sudden vision of the blue van he had given her a ride in, crumpled and smashed across the front with Zoicite bleeding and unconscious over the steering wheel.   
    "Huh?" Minako sounded honestly confused. "What? What are you talking about?"   
    "Zoicite was hurt?" Ami prompted, terror lacing her voice. She shot her mother a glance as the woman straightened in concern.   
    "What?"   
    "He crashed?"   
    "Oh!" There was a brief pause and then Ami could hear Minako laughing. "No, no, Ami. He 'crashed' – he fell asleep. Slang, you know?"   
    "Oh," Ami felt embarrassed, but now that she knew that he was okay, she was a little miffed that he hadn't called her. Zoicite escaped a yelling-at later only because she could imagine him sleeping, sweetly, curled on the back van seat like a little boy. "Actually, I need you to do me a little bitty favor, okay?"   
    Ami frowned a bit. "What is it?" She was a little frightened of the answer.   
    "Meet me at the Juuban District Hospital after work."   
    "Okay," Ami frowned uncertainly – that was where her mom worked. She wasn't sure what this all meant.   
    "And Ami?"   
    "Hm?" She was distracted, thinking about the odd request and wondering if Zoicite would still be home when she got done with her day and would mind her calling him. She decided against it, as she might wake up Jared from any naps he might take.   
    "Don't tell anyone where you're going."   
    "Um. Okay."   
    "Good girl." 

Ami stood in front of the hospital, wringing her hands. Where was Minako?   


    "Stop looking so guilty," Minako whispered in her ear, and Ami jumped, causing the blonde to take a step back.   
    "AH!"   
    Minako massaged her forehead for a moment as Ami calmed down. "Let's just go."   
    The hospital was cool and high and tiled with dark blue and white. Ami pulled her purse further onto her arm and glanced over at Minako. She felt very drab in her light blue cardigan, white silk shirt, and jeans, while Minako strode through in a sleek orange spaghetti-strap dress and matching heels. With her glorious blonde fall of hair, Minako looked like a model – or a lollipop. Ami wasn't quite sure which.   
    "Can I help you ladies?" a young security guard asked them, giving Minako an appreciative look. Ami frowned in his direction. She'd never gotten so much as a nod from him when she came in to see her mother. _Chauvinist pig,_ she thought, and felt better.   
    "No, thank you," Minako smiled and swept by with Ami, leaving the disappointed guard to help an old woman in a wheelchair who had been trying to get his attention and finally hit him with the Kleenex box that had been handy.   
    Ami stood in the elevator with Minako and the blonde told her that they were going to see Ami's mother.   
    "Why?" she asked while pushing the button. She frowned when Minako wouldn't answer her. What could her mother help with?   
    "Come on," Minako pulled Ami out of the elevator and stalked down the hallway to Dr. Mizuno's office, making Ami wonder if she'd been there before.   
    The door was locked.   
    "Get someone to open it," Minako said in an undertone, leaning against the wall beside the door. Ami tossed her a concerned look, but went to the nurses' station and asked for an extra key, saying she'd left something in there earlier. They obliged and the two girls went in, locking the door behind them. Minako smiled and kissed Ami on the cheek. "Thank you!" She slipped an assortment of small tools from her bright orange purse and started expertly fiddling with the file cabinets.   
    "Oh," Ami moaned, "I can't watch." Minako only smiled, still working at the locks. Locks to her _mother's_ files! Ami thought she was going to be sick. She rocked from nausea to annoyance and turned to hiss, "That's illegal, you know!"   
    "I know," Minako said, and continued to flip through names on all the folders. Not a bit concerned.   
    Ami rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth, turning away again. What was she doing? What was she looking for? What . . . what if they were caught?   
    She felt nauseous again and wondered vaguely if her mother had anything to help. She started looking around the office for something and tried her best to ignore that Minako was going calmly through her mother's patient files.   
    "I'm gonna die," Ami moaned, banging her head against a conveniently placed wall.   
    "No you're not," Minako said in self-satisfied tones, "because I just found what I was looking for."   
    Ami turned and stared as Minako picked up Ami's purse and put the file into it.   
    "It won't fit in mine," she pointed out when Ami continued to stare at her, and turned to lock all of the cabinets back.   
    Ami was silent for a moment, holding her purse. It felt decidedly heavier – weighed with guilt, she decided bitterly. "You're right," she sighed. "I'm not going to die." Minako smiled at her. "I'm going to go to jail, _then_ die." Minako gave her a sour look, but Ami went on. "I'm going to be done in by a fat woman named Bertha. She'll have too many moles and smoke – I'll die from second-hand smoke, you know what that does to you."   
    "Ami."   
    "Hm?" She looked at Minako, still not quite believing that she was going to walk out of there with important patient files in her purse.   
    "Shut up."   
    Ami sighed and picked up the office key to give to the nurses as they left. "Alright. Let's just go. Fast."   
    And they did. 


	6. A Hungry Secretary

Part Six: A Hungry Secretary 

Ami sprinkled paprika liberally on top of the still-warm potato salad, her mother breaking up leaves of lettuce into a large bowl. It was the day after the file-heist, and Ami was in her apartment, making dinner with her mother. Ami placed the potato salad on the table and watched bright drops of water flicker off of the freshly-washed lettuce, her mother's slim, knotted hands working efficiently. Ami took a large tomato, washed it, and began to slice it for the salad, her pale, smooth hands slicing slowly and methodically.   
    "So how are you doing with this new fellow?" her mother asked, picking up a carrot. "What was his name?"   
    "Zoicite," Ami murmured. "You remember him – from high school?"   
    "Yes, Zoicite. How are things going with him?" She dried her hands on a towel.   
    Ami paused and finished the tomato. "His work is keeping him pretty busy, but he still makes time for me. Mainly, I babysit his nephew, Jared, and see him in the morning. He has to work nights a lot." She added the last to satiate her mother's curious glance. Under those beautiful dark blue eyes, Ami felt like scum. Her stomach was sour with her guilt – how could she have helped rob her own mother? She must be the worst daughter in the world.   
    "What does he do?" her mother sprinkled the chopped carrot into the salad.   
    Ami was flustered. "Oh, um, he's . . ." she spouted out the first thing she could think of, "a secretary."   
    Her mother's eyes widened. "A secretary?" Ami could tell that she was trying to find something nice to say about that. "That's . . . a very fine profession."   
    Ami laughed a little nervously. "He's working on his business degree. . . ." she explained a little weakly, "going to school at night." Her mother nodded, both of them falling back into silence as they worked.   
    There was a knock at the door and Ami gratefully went to get it. Her nerves were shot and she was afraid of letting something slip. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to have dinner with her mother tonight.   
    Ami opened the door and stared at a fuzzy brown face with shiny black eyes and a button nose. Zoicite lowered the teddy-bear from in front of his face and gave a sheepish, hopeful smile, holding the plush animal out like a peace offering. "Can I come in?"   
    Ami blinked at him and then nodded. "My mother's here," she told him, the softness of the stuffed animal's fur striking her dumb.   
    "Ah," Zoicite breathed, watching her bury her face into the bear's soft head. He touched her shoulder, fingers and voice gentle. "You gonna be okay?"   
    Ami nodded, not trusting her voice, and then threw herself into Zoicite's arms, the bear falling at their feet. "I'm scared."   
    He held her, kissing her hair. He'd never meant for her to get mixed up in all of this, and now they had turned her against her mother. It just wasn't fair. "I know, sweetheart."   
    "Ami?" her mother called from the kitchen. "Who was it?"   
    Ami pulled from Zoicite's arms and led him to the kitchen. "Zoicite dropped by," Ami told her, her heart jumping as his warm hand slipped assuredly into hers.   
    Her mother smiled at them. They made such a sweet couple – and she could tell they liked each other. Ami was blushing and wouldn't look her in the eye, but there was a shy smile tugging around her mouth. "Does he want to stay for dinner?"   
    Zoicite's eyes lit up at the mention of food. He looked beseechingly at Ami, who laughed.   
    "Okay, but you have to wash your hands first." Zoicite nodded and turned to comply – when he realized that he'd never been in her apartment before.   
    "Um," he started, but she realized his problem and gave him swift directions. Zoicite smiled and kissed her cheek swiftly before going. "Thank you."   
    Just like a real couple, Ami thought as her mother smiled knowingly. Ami, to retain her dignity and calm her fire-red cheeks, picked up a knife and went feverishly at the boneless grilled chicken, slicing it into long thin strips and placing them in the salad. She didn't look up, even though she felt her mother's smiling eyes on her, until Zoicite came back.   
    He was admiring her apartment. It was pale, very spacious, and expertly decorated. Spotting the teddy bear he'd brought still lying in front of the door, he picked it up and carried it into the living room, which was separated from the kitchen only by a bar.   
    Ami turned and saw the bear in his hands. "Where should I put him?" he asked, smiling sweetly.   
    "On the couch," she smiled back, their eyes meeting and holding until Ami realized that her mother was still watching them. She turned quickly back to the salad and let Zoicite settle the bear onto her pristine blue sofa.   
    "Being a doctor must pay well," he commented, coming over to lean against the bar counter. "This is a nice place."   
    Ami smiled and picked up the finished salad as her mother started making some iced tea. "It does pay well. Better than your job, I imagine," she smiled at him, thinking of his small apartment, and he rolled his eyes.   
    "Unfortunately." Zoicite watched her as she got out an extra plate and some silverware for him. As she straightened up, he placed a quick, silent kiss on her lips. Ami flushed in surprise and shot a look to her mother, whose back was to them. Zoicite winked impertinently and sat down, elbows on the table and chin in his hands, smiling up at where she still stood.   
    "How _is_ your secretarial work going, Zoicite?" Ami's mother asked as she came over with the tea.   
    Zoicite blinked, looked at Ami, who suddenly wouldn't meet his eyes and had a curious jerking around her lips, and turned back to the elder Dr. Mizuno.   
    She looked at his blank face and drew a quick assumption, wincing. "Oh, I'm sorry. Is that a touchy subject for you?"   
    Zoicite claimed his wits quickly and gave the woman a charming smile. "No, no. I was just surprised that she'd told you. She doesn't mention it much to others." He gave her a conspiratorial glance and they both looked at Ami, who was sitting down and giving Zoicite a look laced with annoyed amusement.   
    "Ami, honey," her mother admonished while passing Zoicite the potato salad, "you really shouldn't be so touchy about what your friends do."   
    Ami lowered her eyes, more to hide the laughter than anything, and replied softly, obediently, "Of course, mother."   
    Dr. Mizuno turned again to Zoicite. "Ami tells me that you're taking business courses at night? How is that going?"   
    He refrained from looking at Ami and gave the elder doctor a brilliant smile. "Very well, ma'am. I'm at the top of my class." The woman looked impressed, Ami looked incredulous, and Zoicite decided to pile it on. "In fact," he gave Ami a sly look, "I've been hit on by _many_ an available young college student." He blinked and added so seriously that Ami had to cover her mouth with her napkin to keep from laughing, "Not all of them female.   
    "But alas," he put one hand over his heart, "I've had to turn them all down for the love of a beautiful and promising young pediatrician." Here he took Ami's hand on top of the table and looked at her with genuine affection. "Though I can't say I've regretted it."   
    Dinner went well and Zoicite praised everything, so that Ami's mother was beaming with satisfaction by the time she took her leave – and not just for the young man's appetite. She was thrilled to see her daughter so happily settled with such a fine man. And so very imaginative, too. She smiled, wrapping her jacket around her and kissing her daughter goodbye. "I like him," she whispered before leaving.   
    "So do I," Ami had whispered back, and the two women smiled at each other.   
    Zoicite stayed to help with the dishes.   
    "You could be a writer, you know," Ami told him as they headed back to the kitchen.   
    "Why's that?" he asked, and she grinned.   
    "You're full of it."   
    Zoicite laughed. "_Me_? Who told her that I was a _secretary_?! A secretary, Ami! Really!" he shook his head as she laughed, blushing.   
    "I had to think of something – she surprised me."   
    He rolled his eyes and exclaimed, "When rookies are startled!"   
    "Rookie liars?" Ami poked him playfully and he caught her hand. In one instant the mood changed and he caught her up and was kissing her – kissing her until she couldn't breathe.   
    They parted and gasped for air, Zoicite holding her tight and resting his chin on her hair. "God, Ami, I've been wanting to do that all night."   
    Ami just held him back, dazed from the kiss. Finally, her thoughts pieced together somewhat and she could form a coherent thought. "Why didn't you call me yesterday?"   
    He winced a little. "I fell asleep, and then it was too late to call." He hugged her fiercely. "I'm sorry," he smiled down at her, hoping for quick forgiveness, and chuckled a little. "What did you think the bear was for?"   
    Ami only smiled and shook her head, bringing his face down to hers again. She just couldn't get enough of his lips. 


	7. Ice Cream

Part Seven: Ice Cream 

Ami woke up to the sound of someone ringing her bell. It was early afternoon, because she'd been up late finishing the dishes with Zoicite and didn't have work that morning. She stood up and rubbed her eyes, stretching lazily before stumbling to the door in her blue pajamas and fuzzy slippers. Glancing out the peep hole, she sighed and chuckled at the same time, opening the door with a tolerant look on her face.   
    "Hi Ami!" Usagi piped up as she nudged her way in the door, a sack in her hands and bag slung over her shoulder. Makoto, following Usagi in, smiled and echoed the greeting, toting a gallon bucket of ice cream. It was Sunday, so they weren't at work and Ami had been trying to catch up on her sleep. Zoicite had stayed late to help her wash the dishes – a process that went considerably slower than usual because Zoicite used every excuse he could think of to stop working and kiss her. But she made him work until the dishes were done, despite the interruptions, and managed, laboriously, to shove him out her front door afterwards.   
    "Hi guys." Ami watched Makoto put the ice cream in her freezer and Usagi plop her sack by the TV, tossing the gym bag onto the couch.   
    "Cute bear," Makoto commented as Usagi picked the plush toy up.   
    "Squishy," she agreed. "Who gave it to you?"   
    "Zoicite," Ami replied. She kept from blushing, but couldn't meet their eyes.   
    The two girls looked at each other and smiled. Usagi turned back and faced Ami squarely. "This is the deal," she said, the picture of seriousness. "We're having an all-girl sleep over, with movies and ice cream. And you, dear, are going to catch us up on all the details of your relationship that you've skimped on."   
    So a short while later, after Ami had taken her shower and was in a fresh set of pajamas and pair of fuzzy slippers, bear clutched in her arms, the girls lounged around her living room, curtains closed for the effect of almost-night. While they ate ice cream and the prepped videos for watching, Ami filled the girls in on some general details.   
    "Is he a good kisser?" Makoto wanted to know.   
    Ami blushed and laughed, not sure if she was going to answer or not. After looking at Makoto, she said, "I'll tell you if you tell me. Is Nephrite?"   
    Makoto's lips slid into a sly grin. "Of course."   
    "Then Zoicite is too," she said calmly.   
    "Oh, come on, Ami, dish!" Usagi cried, her bunny-slippered feet kicking daintily in the air.   
    Ami laughed and blushed again. "What am I supposed to say? That he ate dinner with me and my mom last night?"   
    "That's a start," Usagi said, eyebrows raised. "What happened?"   
    She shrugged. "He came, we talked, we ate, it was fine."   
    "Ami!" Usagi protested.   
    "Okay, why the bear?" Makoto piped up. "Why did he give you that?" She paused a moment for effect, allowing her devilish smile to sink in. "You must have done something _really_ good for it."   
    Ami stared at her and blushed harder than she thought was possible, eyes widening.   
    There was silence.   
    And as Ami didn't respond, the eyes of her friends got wider and wider.   
    "You didn't," Makoto breathed, eyes glowing in disbelief and a smile playing around the corners of her mouth.   
    "What?" Usagi asked, realizing something was going on, but not quite catching on. Her brow was furrowed as she looked from one woman to the other.   
    Makoto still stared at Ami, who had ducked her head in embarrassment and smiled apologetically. "You slept with him!"   
    "What?!" Usagi exclaimed, covering her mouth with one slim white hand. "Ami! I work with you every day and I didn't even _know_?!" She sighed and fell back. "I am getting so old!" She sat up and blinked. "You had sex before I did. I can't believe it . . . Innocent little Ami–"   
    "–Gettin' her groove on," Makoto cried, hugging Ami and grinning.   
    "Guys!" she protested, blushing. It really was embarrassing and she wished they would stop being so proud of her. She still had reservations about her relationship with Zoicite – still had things she was uncertain about.   
    Was he just using her? If it came down to it, would he choose her over his job? Would he put her in danger? He had already let them turn her against her own mother.   
    And what about that red-headed woman? Why did she keep popping up when she didn't expect anyone? What was her relationship with Zoicite? Had they dated? Had they been lovers?   
    How many women had Zoicite _been_ with? This was a particularly disturbing thought. He was a very good-looking man and even though he had a child, women were probably very attracted to him.   
    "What is it?" Makoto inquired while Usagi dipped them more ice cream. "You look unhappy."   
    Ami shook her head, but relented when pressed. "I was just wondering about Zoicite's other girlfriends."   
    "I'm sure you're the best one he's ever had," Makoto said, and Usagi smiled her support.   
    "Figuratively and literally?" Ami muttered, her thoughts taking on painful connotations again.   
    "Ami!" Usagi tackled her, pinning her to the ground and sitting on top of her. "No sad thoughts. I demand that you be happy!" She grinned and her eyes lit up like sapphires. "Let's watch a movie! I brought a whole bunch of romances!" She scurried to her sack of videotapes and dug through it.   
    "Have . . . have you ever been with a man, Makoto?" Ami asked quietly, not looking at the other woman.   
    Makoto was thoughtful for a while. "No, actually. I . . . I've kind of been waiting for marriage. Saving myself, you know?"   
    "Oh," Ami whispered, feeling bad. Makoto was saving herself and Ami, prudent, decent little Ami, had thrown herself headfirst into lust.   
    How she despised herself right then.   
    Makoto eagerly tried to reassure her, though it was too late. "But that's what I consider right for me. You're a completely different person."   
    "Yeah," Ami agreed quietly, and they turned their attention to Usagi's movie.   
    It was, beginning to end, a load of sap, but Ami felt inexplicably better after laughing and crying over it with her friends, huddled up on the couch in a tangle of feminine arms and legs. Makoto threw popcorn kernels at the screen when the heroine made a bad decision and Ami laughed and told her she would have to pick it up later. Makoto ignored her and started cheering for the dog as it brought the two lovers together, kicking her feet and disrupting the other two women on the couch, whose calves were comfortably intertwined with hers.   
    Usagi shrieked as Makoto's foot hit her bowl of popcorn and it went flying across the carpet. Makoto stared at it in consternation, the movie temporarily forgotten, and then both of them looked at Ami, whose eyes were wide and startled.   
    And then Ami laughed, giggling wildly, and the other two soon joined her, young girlish laughter filling the room. When one of them calmed down enough to speak, she would look at the others and peal off into shrieks of mirth again. It wasn't necessarily just the popcorn, either -- it was the comradery and the closeness of bonding women.   
    The movie had ended while they laughed and Makoto got up to replace it with another. Ami took the moment to glance over at Usagi.   
    "So how's Mamoru?"   
    Usagi grinned and her gaze turned dreamy. "He's still really busy with school, but we find time to do things together. Just the other night, we went to that restaurant down on--"   
    There was a knock at the door and she stopped. Makoto looked up from the VCR.   
    "Did you guys call for reinforcements?" Ami joked, going to the door. The girls behind her shared a surprised look and replied in the negative.   
    Ami looked out the peep hole and then unlocked the door, opening it just enough to look out.   
    "I like your outfit," Zoicite smiled.   
    "I have friends over," she rebuked him gently.   
    "Sorry," he grimaced. "I just wanted to know if you wanted to come to dinner at my mom's with me tomorrow."   
    She blinked and frowned. "You could have called about that."   
    "I did," he was a bit defensive, "but you never answered the phone."   
    Her eyes widened. "The phone?" she repeated louder, glancing behind her. She saw Usagi duck her head and blush.   
    "I turned the ringer off," she called back, sheepish. "Didn't want it to interrupt the movie."   
    Ami smiled and sighed, leaning her head against the doorframe. "Okay. What time?"   
    "Seven," he replied, thinking how very cute she looked. The air was thick and sparkling and charged. Their eyes were locked. "Do you want to meet me there, or should I pick you up?"   
    "I'll meet you," she whispered, smiling a little as he leaned in closer.   
    "Great." His eyes closed and his lips met hers – she leaned into the kiss and lost herself, knees weakening and pressing against his chest, so that he was supporting her against the doorframe.   
    "Mwah mwah mwah!" someone mimicked, and Ami pulled away slightly to start at the sight of a teddy bear right beside her face. Zoicite stared at it, but didn't let go of her.   
    Usagi lowered the bear and grinned at them. Makoto, behind her, was looking dreamy.   
    "You two make such a cute couple," she smiled.   
    Ami turned bright red. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said, pushing him gently away. He took the hint and nodded, stepping back and saying goodbye to the girls.   
    When the door was closed, Ami had to face two smiling lunatics.   
    Usagi smirked and said, "So. You two really have gotten freaky, haven't you?"   
    Both of the other women stared at her, taken aback, and cried "What?!"   
    Usagi's smirk was replaced by a wide-eyed innocent look. "What? They _have_."   
    "Usagi!" Ami screeched, and from that, somehow, a pillow fight started.   
    It was a long, fun night.


End file.
